


Cafe Open: New Owner

by meaganola



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 12:55:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6080226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meaganola/pseuds/meaganola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve recently bought a coffee house.  He doesn't like his counterperson.  Bucky's office just moved to the neighborhood.  He doesn't like her, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cafe Open: New Owner

**Author's Note:**

> It's been years -- like probably at least ten -- since I wrote anything, but I woke up with an idea this morning that just wouldn't go away. As I was writing this, I kind of fell in love with Bucky's backstory, so there's probably a bit too much of that here. Oops. (Also, although it may look like there is an original character in here, this is actually *not* the case. Unless you count the espresso machine. Which I do not. I just feel like I have to justify this character.) (All mistakes are mine since I've been away from writing for so long that I don't know any beta readers nowadays.)

Steve didn't like her. 

The thing that bothered him about his distaste was that he couldn't put his finger on why he felt this revulsion. It was just *there*. He never would have hired her to work in his cafe if he had been the one interviewing, but she had come with the place when he bought it from a former Army buddy who had owned it prior to enlisting but changed his mind about living in a city upon discharge. The existing staff had stayed on board after the transition, which was perfect. He had no clue how to hire people. He could take care of the behind-the-scenes stuff, well, behind the scenes, and he could use “we need art on the walls” as an excuse to justify indulging in his favorite hobby. It had been two weeks since he had taken the shop over, and so far, so good.

And so Thea -- the redhead claimed that “My full name offends me,” whatever that meant -- continued to work the front counter, taking orders and serving baked goods from the display case. He had been told her coffee-making abilities were nil, and he cringed when he remembered that pie shop in Portland with virtually undrinkable coffee (how the hell do you ruin Stumptown beans? They did it every single time), so he kept her off the machines in the interest of not losing business. She seemed pleasant enough, so. Status quo. 

“What the hell do you mean?” The raised voice of an unknown man caught his ear. He might not like the woman, but he would not allow a customer to attack her. Stepping out of his office, he observed the man leaning over the counter, from battered motorcycle boots to unkempt hair. “All I want is some fucking coffee!” Oh, crap, there had been no customers in the shop, so Peter had gone on break while he could. At least Steve knew how to work the machines. He moved closer to Old Faithful (so named for the vicious but almost supernaturally predictable blasts of steam it would periodically emit. No one could figure out how to fix it. Avoiding burns was almost a dance at times) to get the guy’s order. 

She folded her arms and glared at the guy. “We don't serve your kind here.” That sentence set off alarm bells. He hoped she didn't mean what he thought she meant. He didn't want to have to deal with the hiring process. 

Now that the guy was no longer slouched over the counter, Steve could see his shirts. Over a navy blue long-sleeved shirt, he wore a pale blue t-shirt with the JARVIS House logo emblazoned across the chest and a tiny rainbow heart on one sleeve. The Juveniles And Returning Veterans In Solidarity House was a known quantity to him: Although he had never actually used their services, he was very familiar with -- and supportive of -- their activism around employment and housing for LGBTQ youths and veterans. It was an odd combination, but news reports informed him that Tony Stark had insisted on it for some reason, and since he was the philanthropist funding it, well, he got what he wanted -- even when what he wanted was a logo that emphasized the A in the acronym. Sure, when pressed by reporters, he claimed that it was because “the AND is the most important part,” but this had never made sense to Steve. 

The guy’s voice (right, the guy, the customer) dropped and hardened to pure steel. “What type? Vets? Amputees? Disabled vets?” Steve got the uncomfortable feeling this response was purely to provoke a response. He was very interested in her answer, though, because it would mean the difference between going on comfortably as is or having to replace her. He didn’t want to have to replace *anyone*. 

“The Religious Freedom Restoration Act says I don’t have to serve queers.”

Oh, shit. She said it. And used a seriously outdated slur at that. “Thea?” Steve hoped his voice didn’t waver. The guy -- the *hot* guy, now that Steve was able to see his VERY PISSED OFF face -- turned a furious face his way. “You’re fired.” 

She turned her attention to him, baffled. “But I’m a Christian! This is religious discrimination!”

Steve sighed heavily. “No, this is an employee refusing to serve a customer. Feel free to sue me. I’m interested in seeing how this aspect of the law shakes out.” He sighed again. “But you also probably don’t want to work for a queer anyway.”

There it was. Finally, he said it out loud to someone else in front of a stranger. It was something that he normally kept to himself because, really, no one needed to know unless he wanted to sleep with them, but she had unknowingly pushed him to the breaking point. He could have lectured her about how not everyone who works for an organization devoted to the civil rights of gay people was actually gay, or he could have used his own knowledge of the Bible to flip all of her arguments on their head, but he just went for the kill shot. Better to know where she stands once and for all.

Thea gasped audibly at him. “You? You’re one of… *them*?” 

Steve sighed yet again. He needed to get a new hobby. “One of them human beings who deserves to be treated like a human being like all of the other human beings? Yes. Now get your things and get out before we start discussing immigration and I start quoting Emma Lazarus. I’ll send your final check after I do payroll.” Great. He went there.

She gathered her belongings. The guy cleared his throat. Steve had almost forgotten about him. Sheepishly, the guy broke into the silence. “Uh. I didn’t mean to --”

“No, it’s better that this happened.” He would repeat this to himself until he believed it. “It’s better to know now so I can move on.” Shit, that sounded like he had been dating her and was ready to marry her until she revealed her bigotry. Well, too late to take the words back now.

“Right.” The guy shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. “Still. I want to make it up to you.”

Steve waved his hand to signify… something. “Don’t worry about it. Unless you happen to know someone in need of a job, like, right this minute.”

At that, the guy brightened, and, wow, that smile. “Actually, I do. Several someones.”

~~~~

This morning could go eat rocks.

It was a familiar argument in their office, and Bucky knew his part by heart. “You can’t just act like a shield for everyone.” This particular argument was about Tony’s latest brainstorm to buy a large apartment complex and just give all of their clients housing for free.

“Why not?” Tony was clearly bewildered at the fact that someone was telling him he couldn’t do something despite the fact that this was something that had a daily iteration. “‘House’ is right there in the name.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at the familiar response. “You can’t save the world, Tony.”

Even with his back turned to the funding source of the entire organization, he could *feel* the shrug. “Doesn’t mean I can’t try.”

Natasha patted Bucky’s back. For a lawyer who went for the jugular every time and won almost every time (there were cases were still pending), she could be comforting when she needed to be. “You ever hear of the definition of insanity? It’s where you do the same thing every time and expect a different result.” Or not so comforting.

Now Bucky shrugged. “We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t think we could make a difference.”

The JARVIS House had come along at just the right time for him. Freshly discharged from the Army and still trying to figure out how to use his prosthetic arm lost in an experience he had worked hard at repressing, he had experienced difficulty finding a job due largely to the fact that most of the jobs he had been applying to required two working hands. Barista? Grocery checker? Data entry? None of these had been options at the time. He could have theoretically done customer service at a call center, but he had lasted one day before cursing out a particularly nasty customer and hanging up in the middle of their response. So... Not customer service.

But then there was his fateful trip to the Veterans' Administration hospital one day, where he happened across one Colonel James Rhodes. Although Rhodey was Air Force, branch didn’t matter when it came to helping out a fellow member of the armed forces, discharged or not. Thanks to a nearly-full canteen, they ended up seated at the same table, discussing what had brought them there that day. Rhodey was there to visit an old friend who was now a radiologist. Bucky was there for a full day of Prosthetics Services in the morning and Social Work appointments in the afternoon, the latter of which he expected would be nothing but him whining about not being able to find a job. Their introductions to each other were a little surreal: “My name is James, but everyone calls me Rhodey.” “My name is James, but everyone calls me Bucky.”

Two bad cups of coffee (and what he would eventually realize was an impromptu job interview, although neither of them grasped this at the time) later, he found himself with a brand new title: JARVIS House placement supervisor. Neither of them had a clue what the job would entail since it was created on the spot just for Bucky, but Rhodey had known Tony Stark long enough to know what Tony would just shrug and accept the sudden expansion of the staff, assuming he even noticed. (Needless to say, Bucky didn’t make it to his afternoon appointments. His counselor was thrilled.)

(At their first meeting, Tony ended up immediately upgrading his prosthetic arm to the point where Bucky could have taken one of those aforementioned need-two-good-hands jobs, but his temporary job until he figured out how to deal with his life post-discharge turned out to be his dream vocation.)

He reached for his travel mug, discovering that it was empty. Crap. They had just moved into a new office space the day before (they were actually still unpacking, hence the jeans and t-shirts: In case a potential client walked in, they could be identified as staff by their t-shirts. Bruce had rolled his eyes and muttered that he was too old for this shit, but the twins had happily embraced matching outfits) and hadn’t had the new coffee maker installed, so this meant that he would have to leave the premises and find a coffee shop. There had to be one nearby. He just hoped it wasn’t a Starbucks since that stuff sucked. Maybe they did gallons-to-go, and he could bring some back to the office and be a hero. He grabbed his jacket and fought his way into it (regardless of how well Tony made his arm act like the real thing, jacket sleeves were still a problem), ready to face the cold.

He found a shop just a few doors down, clearly not a Starbucks, based on the fact that there was a sign on the door touting CAFE OPEN: NEW OWNER. Baked goods in the display case, espresso machine, chairs and tables -- your typical independent coffee house, complete with what he assumed was original artwork on the walls. It was also extremely warm, so he unzipped his jacket as he approached the counter. It seemed strangely bereft of employees, but he was crossing his fingers that they had a wonderful, glorious urn of freshly-brewed coffee he could take back to the office and be the hero of the day.

“Welcome! What can I get started for you today?” A freckle-faced redhead stood behind the counter. 

He continued to take his jacket off as he approached the counter. It could be a struggle sometimes, but it was *hot* in the cafe. “Do you do to-go gallons of coffee? I would like one regular and one decaf.” Ah, finally, he got the prosthetic out of the sleeve. There was a menu on the counter listing the various baked goods available, and he leaned over the counter to read it.

As her eyes dropped to his shirt, he could feel her demeanor change. “No.”

He blinked. “What?”

She sneered at him, clearly delighted in her power. “I said no.” 

Now he was getting pissed. “What the hell do you mean? All I want is some fucking coffee!” Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention as he straightened to his full height. Oh, shit. He was going to get thrown out of the closest coffee place to JARVIS. And he was wearing a t-shirt with the logo, and now the entire office will be banned from the place. He was going to have to quit his job. He loved his job. He was *good* at his job.

“We don’t serve your kind here.” 

“What type? Vets? Amputees? Disabled vets?” He knew he was taunting her, but he wanted to *hear* her say it. The guy -- the very built guy, and, shit, he was in trouble if this guy decided to bodily throw him out -- seemed to turn his attention away from Bucky and to the woman. That seemed odd since Bucky was clearly the aggressor here.

“The Religious Freedom Restoration Act says I don’t have to serve queers.”

Bucky felt like she had punched him. She actually said it. He had heard about businesses that refused to serve gay people, but he had never expected that he would actually encounter one, never mind being the person who was actually denied service, not to mention the fact that she used a word that he was pretty sure stopped being used during the Nixon administration. He could feel his face turning into a mask of rage. As long as she was refusing to serve him, he had nothing to lose by turning his fury on her. Might as well go down in flames.

Built Hot Guy stepped forward. Bucky turned his face towards the guy, ready to defend himself if necessary. “Thea? You’re fired.” Wait, what?

The redhead turned to the guy -- apparently her boss -- in utter confusion. “But I’m a Christian! This is religious discrimination!”

The guy sighed. “No, this is an employee refusing to serve a customer. Feel free to sue me. I’m interested in seeing how this aspect of the law shakes out. But you also probably don’t want to work for a queer anyway.”

Now it was the redhead’s turn to gasp. “You? You’re one of… *them*?” ‘One of *them*?’ What century was this woman from, anyway?

“One of them human beings who deserves to be treated like a human being like all of the other human beings?" Wow, Bucky had never heard someone repeat "human being" like that. The guy must be *pissed*. "Yes. Now get your things and get out before we start discussing immigration and I start quoting Emma Lazarus. I’ll send your final check after I do payroll.” Holy shit. Someone who knew The New Colossus and was built like *that*? 

Bucky cleared his throat to remind the guy that someone else was there. “Uh. I didn’t mean to --”

“No, it’s better that this happened.” The guy sounded resigned. “It’s better to know now so I can move on.” 

“Right.” Bucky wasn’t sure what was going on. “Still. I want to make it up to you.”

“Don’t worry about it. Unless you happen to know someone in need of a job, like, right this minute.”

JARVIS House Placement Supervisor Bucky Barnes replied, “Actually, I do. Several someones.”

That afternoon, Bucky had a second part-time job -- which aligned perfectly with his actual job -- as hiring manager for the cafe.

The next day, Steve had a whole new supplemental battalion of fresh-faced cafe workers eager to establish a steady work history so they could get apartments of their own.

The next week, “All Are Welcome Here” signs went in the windows.

The week after that, Tony fixed Old Faithful.

The month after that, Bruce started roasting the beans for the shop.

The next month, Pepper convinced Steve to enter a business partnership with Tony to expand into the storefronts on either side of the cafe, providing job training for JARVIS clients to start their own restaurants and cafes around town.

The month after that, one of the building contractors convinced Steve to rename it the Sure Shot. “Because espresso, Steve!” (Steve’s response was an unimpressed “Have you been spending your days off at the archery range again, Clint?” He still went with the suggested name, though, largely because one of the new baristas -- a Scottish guy, surprisingly enough -- reminded him that the Beastie Boys were from Brooklyn, too.)

The month after that, they hired a lawyer who apparently looked so good in suits that he finally made Clint shut up.

The month after that, Steve convinced Bucky to move in with him. 

The month after that, everyone lived happily ever after.

Except for Thea. Steve and Bucky were pretty sure she was a supervillain who would never be happy if the good guys won, though.


End file.
